Burial At Sea Poem by Morgan Michaels

Into the purple sea, feet first
along the whale's black back
stuck with barnacles and whorls of worms
slips the man from the boat
who used be a priest, then a rabbi
buttoning his macintosh.

Kersplash!

The whale glides off, laughing and spouting.
The boat drifts off, the sun comes out,
the atolls drift and shift, the heavens popsicle green.

'Isn't it lovely, ' sputters the man
(who has lost his stove pipe) emerging
back in air. 'Isn't it lovely.'